


Friends Reunited

by simeysgirl



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-12
Updated: 2014-05-12
Packaged: 2018-01-24 12:34:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1605371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/simeysgirl/pseuds/simeysgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ron had a perfect—if not <i>the</i> perfect excuse for his reaction to Harry and Malfoy. You see, he had assumed Draco was a dog.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Friends Reunited

**Author's Note:**

> If it wasn't for G, this fic would just be stuck on my computer, half finished. As always, she has been my biggest supporter and my partner in crime.

**Title:** Friends Reunited  
 **Summary:** Ron had a perfect—if not _the_ perfect excuse for his reaction to Harry and Malfoy. You see, he had assumed Draco was a dog.  
 **Rating:** PG-13  
 **Pairing(s):** Draco/Harry, Ron/Hermione  
 **Word Count:** 5,000  
 **Author's Notes:** If it wasn't for G, this fic would just be stuck on my computer, half finished. As always, she has been my biggest supporter and my partner in crime.  
This was written for the [](http://dracotops-harry.livejournal.com/profile)[**dracotops_harry**](http://dracotops-harry.livejournal.com/) fest 2013, originally posted [here.](http://dracotops-harry.livejournal.com/237732.html)

Ron had a perfect—if not _the_ perfect—excuse for his reaction to seeing Harry and Malfoy sitting on Harry's sofa, so closely entwined that he couldn't tell whose limbs were whose. And when Harry finally talked to him again, Ron would gladly explain it.

You see, Ron had assumed Draco was a dog.

It had all started months earlier—not long after the end of the war—when Hermione decided that it was time for her parents to come home. He and Hermione had travelled—taking no less than seven floos—to the other side of the world; Hermione eager to see her parents' memories restored, and Ron thinking of a nice holiday.

Two weeks, they'd promised their friends and family. Two weeks maximum, and they'd be back, Mr and Mrs Granger in tow, ready to start living their post-war life. The only small flaw in that plan was that Ron and Hermione hadn't considered her parents' views on it. Mr and Mrs Granger—Paul and Janet, Ron had to remember—didn't want to return to Britain.

There had been no problem in the retrieval of Paul and Janet's memories—it was Hermione's spellwork, at the end of the day—but they had simply found themselves new lives. They had a beautiful home, jobs and a few close friends. They were happy.

Hermione understood, and Ron was more than enjoying his stay, so the two weeks turned into three, and then four, and before Ron knew it, his mother was shipping him his Chudley Cannons jumpers along with a tear-stained letter detailing how they'd turned his bedroom into a sewing room.

Ron didn't know exactly how it had happened, but he found himself, without meaning to, emigrating to Australia.

~

If Ron thought that being away from his family was hard, it was nothing to leaving Harry behind.

Ron loved his life down under. He loved the little flat he and Hermione had found not far from the beach. It was close enough to Paul and Janet that they could see them daily, yet within walking distance of the wizarding shopping centre. Ron enjoyed his job in the pub there; laughing and joking with customers came naturally to him. He had even made a couple of good 'mates' down the pub, who were always up for a spot of Quidditch on the weekends.

Yet all of that didn't make up for the feelings of guilt and hurt when he thought about his best friend stuck—all alone—at home.

Both Ron and Hermione had tried to get Harry to join them, but Harry was adamant about staying in Britain. Harry promised them that he was happy, and that he simply wanted to make a go of things with his shop. His letters were full of tales of Diagon Alley—apparently, Malfoy had opened a shoe shop next to his; how weird was that?—and questions about Australia and their life there.

Ron just wished that it was possible to connect a floo from Australia to Britain. He wanted to see for himself whether Harry was actually happy, or just putting on an act. It wouldn't hurt to say hello to his mum as well, but that brought up images of her 'popping' over to see them three times a week, and Ron wasn't sure he wanted _that_.

Hermione had taken the time to explain—with diagrams and props—the complexities of floo travel over great distances, but Ron had switched his brain off halfway through the explanation of the Floo Network Authority and their work with their foreign counterparts and only knew that it was impossible. Ron had managed to talk to Harry over a crackly phone line a couple of times, but Hermione always moaned about the cost, and Harry complained about Ron shouting in his ear.

So, the only communication between Ron and Harry was owls—and the surprisingly fast Muggle post; Hermione dealt with the fiddly stamps—so Ron could easily be forgiven for misreading things.

As Ron saw it, it wasn't his fault. Harry had first mentioned Draco in one of their crackly phone calls, and he hadn't been able to hear him clearly. After the phone call, Ron thought about what Harry had said; he'd definitely heard the words 'Draco' and 'friend'. With subsequent letters mentioning Harry taking Draco out, or how Harry had spent a lovely evening snuggling on the sofa, it was perfectly obvious that Harry and gotten lonely, so he'd bought a dog named Draco, right?

The only thing puzzling Ron was why the hell he'd called it Draco.

~ ~ ~

When Ron told her that Harry had got himself a dog, Hermione was surprised. Not that Harry wasn't a dog person—on the contrary, Harry had loved dogs since he'd spent time with Sirius—but because she simply didn't see Harry as responsible enough to take care of another living thing. He was still young, and Hermione worried about him all the time. She had no clue how he was coping without her.

Of course, his letters were full of happiness and funny stories, but Hermione knew how well Harry could put on an act. Harry had Molly to feed him and look after his general welfare. She had mentioned in a few of her letters that she had had Harry and Draco—a 'lovely boy so well-mannered', according to Molly—over for dinner, but Harry had no one else. His relationship with Ginny had dissolved completely after the war, and Hermione couldn't see Harry going out and finding himself another girlfriend.

Guilt passed through her as Hermione pictured Harry sitting in his old, depressing house night after night, pining after his friends.

Hermione knew he was doing well with his shop—selling Muggle bits and pieces to wizards seemed to suit Harry better than anyone could imagine—but she still felt bad that it was all he had.

Well, apparently Harry had the dog now, too. It made her smile to think of Harry cuddling up to his pet after work. Maybe it would do him well, to have something to focus on until she and Ron made it home for a visit.

One thing that didn't surprise Hermione was what Harry had named it. Harry had always had an unhealthy obsession with their old schoolmate, and Hermione assumed that Harry had had a good kick out of naming a pet after Draco Malfoy.

~ ~ ~ 

Harry was rather pleasantly surprised at Ron and Hermione's easy acceptance of his and Draco's relationship. Harry had finally blurted it out during a rare phone call to Ron. Harry thought that over the phone was the second best thing to telling them in person, and Harry couldn't stomach the thought—or the cost—of travelling all the way to Australia just to tell his friends that he had a boyfriend.

At first, Harry thought that maybe Ron hadn't heard him correctly—the phone line was full of static, and Ron simply wouldn't stop shouting—but when the next letter arrived Harry's heart jumped. It was a small note, with Ron only saying how happy he was that Harry had found his own 'cuddle bunny' (Harry didn't need to know that much about his friends' relationship) and a small joke about Draco's name, which Harry expected (after all, he'd been joking about it since they were eleven, it would be strange for him to stop now).

Harry couldn't stop smiling at the letter. He was expecting a reaction similar to the Weasleys': one of complete and utter shock coupled with—on the part of Ginny, especially—hysterical laughter and 'I told you so'. The fact that his two closest friends accepted his new relationship without question warmed his heart completely.

~

Harry had run into Draco one evening, not long after Ron and Hermione had left for Australia. He had been closing up the shop, and a noise next door had grabbed his attention. At first glance, it looked as if someone was robbing old Mr Rutherford's shop; there was someone inside lit only by a wandtip, and a great deal of rustling and muttering.

Harry, being Harry, charged in without a second thought, wand held aloft and Patronus ready to be sent to the Aurors.

When Harry saw that it was _Malfoy_ , he's dropped his wand in shock. Malfoy, in turn, obviously startled by Harry's unexpected appearance, had stunned him. By the time Harry came to, Malfoy was talking to Aurors who soon left after establishing what had happened and if Harry was all right.

Harry couldn't do anything but ask Malfoy for a pint to apologise for breaking into his—and Harry was more than a little shocked to discover that Malfoy had bought it—shop, and Harry fully expected that to be it.

But Harry couldn't get away from him. He was used to seeing Malfoy when they opened or closed their shops, he ran into him at lunch time in the local café, and he was never surprised to find himself sitting at the table next to Malfoy in the pub if he popped in for a pint on the way home.

Before long, Harry found himself waiting for Malfoy to close his shop, and vice-versa. They no longer bothered to sit at different tables, as they always ended up talking to one another anyway. It was no longer Potter and Malfoy; it was firmly Harry and Draco.

They, without ever meaning to, were friends.

Harry liked to think that he had a lot of friends, and that he would be fine without Ron and Hermione, but the fact was that it wasn't the case. He certainly had a lot of acquaintances—part of the reason why he liked Draco's company was to stop any Tom, Dick, or Wilfred sitting down at his table—but none of his real friends lived nearby. They were living in Australia, teaching at Hogwarts or looking after their nana in Ireland.

Harry had the Weasleys, of course, but there were only so many evenings he could spend listening to Arthur ramble on about something inane while Molly tried to feed him to death. Ginny was no help; she just seemed happy that her mum had someone other than her to mother. More than once, Harry had caught her grinning at him as she left him at her house, surrounded by her family with no chance of escape.

Draco, too, had confided in Harry that he was out of touch with his own friends. Pansy and Blaise had been pressured into marriage immediately after the war, and were travelling around Europe, enjoying the company of the—in Draco's words—'beautiful people'. Harry took that to mean 'rich'. His other friends from school were either locked up in Azkaban, dead, or simply hiding in disgrace.

Harry found himself perfectly happy with the fact that they were friends. You could never have enough good friends, and Draco was becoming a great friend. They spent almost every night together, talking, eating and drinking.

It was after an evening where Harry and Draco had had one of their 'pity parties', and after drinking an inordinate amount of whiskey, that their relationship changed forever.

~

Harry had never thought about Draco in _that_ way—to be honest, he hadn't thought about any _man_ like that—but the instant that their lips met, Harry knew that he was in trouble. Kissing Draco was nothing like kissing Ginny. It was harder, faster, rougher. It was, simply speaking, fucking hot.

Neither Harry nor Draco had the first clue what they were doing, with both admitting to being virgins. With a fair amount of lubrication spells and some quick thinking, though, they soon figured it out. And when Draco finally fucked him right there on his living room rug, Harry couldn't imagine it getting any better.

Of course, as the weeks passed and they _practised_ , Harry knew it could indeed get better. Harry had never seen himself as being obsessed with sex, but, with Draco, he couldn't get enough. Harry wasn't at all surprised at how easy they had fallen into being boyfriends, and he didn't think anything could drag him down from his happy high.

Well, not until Ron unexpectedly tumbled out of his floo one night, spotting Draco and spouting hateful words. Harry wanted nothing more than to punch his best friend in the face.

So he did.

~ ~ ~

Draco had one overwhelming feeling at hearing Weasley's words when he had realised exactly who Harry was snogging on the sofa: hurt.

From the moment Harry had come running into his shop, waving a note in his hand and happily proclaiming that his fears were unfounded, Draco had thought that he'd had Weasley wrong.

Draco had been over to the elder Weasleys' house for dinner a couple of times since he and Harry had become a couple, and he had been amazed at the reception he'd received. Yes, there was the initial shock, but once Harry had explained how they had become close, Draco had been readily accepted by them. After a hearty round of good-natured ribbing from Ginny, of course.

But Ron was different. He _knew_ Draco, and had seen first-hand what a complete prat he had been in school. It was his—and Granger's—opinion that mattered most to Harry and he was aghast to realise that it meant something to him, too.

To think that Harry's two best friends were happy with their relationship—and by extension, Draco himself—made Draco smile, and thinking about the grin on Harry's face as he babbled about the letter, Draco couldn't wait for them to come home. He could tell that Harry missed them, and just how much.

Yet, after Ron stumbled back into the floo, holding his bloody nose, Draco took it all back. All he could do was hold Harry and wonder what the fuck had happened.

~ ~ ~

Hermione couldn't understand a word that Ron was saying when he got back from seeing Harry. She didn't know why he was back so early, nor how the hell he'd broken his nose. It wasn't until Ron calmed down enough for Hermione to cast _Episkey_ , that she discovered just what had rattled her boyfriend so much.

'Huh', was the prevailing thought in her head. Draco was Draco. Actually Draco Malfoy, and not some unfortunately named pet. Hermione had to hold onto the edge of the tabletop as she processed the words.

Ron's family weren't any help at all. Their confused looks followed by outright laughter as Ron explained what they thought they knew only made Hermione feel worse. Ginny's incredulous look prompted another unwelcome thought for Hermione—her letters stating how sickeningly cute Harry and Draco were together, and how Draco needed to learn to keep his tongue to himself took on a whole new meaning.

After a cup of tea—and whatever potion Molly had slipped in with it—Hermione calmed down enough to rationally think about the whole situation. It wasn't the fact that Harry had a boyfriend, not really. Hermione didn't _want_ Harry to be alone. But when Hermione sat at her parents' kitchen table, looking out at the most beautiful view with Ron's hand in hers, she thought of Harry. And she had only pictured him at home, missing them dreadfully, waiting for letters from them.

Hermione felt sick. Had she really become _that_ person? She mentally slapped herself. It was time for some damage control.

~ ~ ~

As Ron listened to Hermione talk—plot, plan—in bed that night, his mind drifted back to what he'd walked into. The sight of Harry ... doing that—it was shock, nothing else. Yes, he wanted—needed—nothing more than to talk to Harry. He just didn't have a bloody clue what he was going to say.

Both he and Hermione had tried to go back to Harry's to talk to him, and after literally being blasted back to the Burrow, they gave up. They had even tried to send quickly-penned owls, simply saying how sorry he was, and asking to be given the chance to explain, but when the owl returned with singed tail feathers, they decided to wait until the morning.

Ron was embarrassed. It was hard to admit that, but it was only to himself, after all. He couldn't believe he'd said those horrible things to the best friend he'd ever had. If only he could tell Harry why he'd said them.

Tuning out Hermione's ramblings over how to get Harry to meet them for dinner, Ron instead thought back to what he and Harry had done for fun before he'd buggered off to the other side of the world.

Ron grinned and kissed Hermione to shut her up. He'd had the perfect idea. What could be better than a trip to the cannons and a couple of pints to fix their friendship?

~ ~ ~

Hermione had a smile on her face as she finally drifted off to sleep that night. Ron was a genius. Harry simply needed to see that they were sorry, it had just been a shock, and that it could be the same as it had been before they'd left. The three of them—what had people (Draco) called them back when they were in school? The Golden Trio—it could, _should_ , be like that again.

Hermione was sure that if they could just spend some time together, if Harry could see that they were happy for him, everything would be okay. It could—would—be back to normal.

Normal, that is, until she and Ron returned home. Their life was in Australia, after all. Maybe she could persuade Harry to visit them. Once Harry saw what it was like, Hermione was sure, he'd fall in love, just as they had.

~ ~ ~

It had taken Draco a long time—and manoeuvres that only he could perform—to calm Harry down after Ron had left. Draco had managed to wrestle Harry's wand away from him after Ron and Hermione's faces had popped into the floo a couple of hours later, and Harry had attempted to blast the fireplace into tiny pieces.

Draco incinerated the notes that had arrived in quick succession after that incident. The look on Harry's face told Draco that it was either the letters or the—damn Harry and his wandless magic—owls themselves. Don't Avada Kedavra the messenger, his mother had always told Draco, and he wisely chose _not_ to impart that knowledge on Harry. Not at that moment, anyway.

Before he had torched the notes, Draco had caught a few words contained within. SORRY was quite clearly the overwhelming message, along with something about a dog, which confused him entirely.

After a rather large tumbler of whiskey—laced with a potion of Draco's own design—Harry was calm enough to listen. Draco, as much as he wanted to simply lock the floo until the two of them fucked back off to Australia, wanted to talk to Harry about _why_ Ron had acted as he had.

Before Harry dropped off to sleep—thanks to another Malfoy special—Draco elicited a promise that they would meet with Ron and Hermione to see what the whole fucking mess was about.

It pained him to admit it, but Draco knew that there _had_ to be something other than homophobia at play. They were—and had been for _years_ —Harry's best friends, after all. He had to try.

~ ~ ~

Harry's first reaction to Ron and Hermione's reason for being surprised by his and Draco's relationship had been one of utter horror.

They thought he'd got lonely and bought a dog. And that he was so messed up that he'd named it Draco. What the fuck?

The look of surprised confusion soon slipped off his face as Harry looked at the—positively human—face of Draco, and saw that he was unsuccessfully trying to stifle a grin. Harry knew instinctively that the only reason Draco wasn't outright laughing was that he didn't want to upset Harry.

To let his boyfriend off the hook, more than anything, Harry let loose a spluttering laugh. The awkwardness broken, Draco quickly joined in before Ron sighed—Harry assumed in relief—and also burst into laughter, Hermione not far behind him.

It turned out to be one of the nicest mornings Harry had had in a while. After the four of them had ironed out the 'small misunderstanding', Harry was grateful to just have his friends back.

Ron and Hermione, as it turned out, didn't have a problem with Harry being gay, or the fact that he had a boyfriend. They assured Harry that their response to Harry's 'dog' still applied, and that they were simply glad that he was happy.

In fact, Ron even invited them to the match the following day, and Hermione asked them to meet her for dinner afterwards. Harry was back to thinking that he had the best friends a guy could ask for.

~ ~ ~

Draco smiled, nodded, and tried his best to think of an excuse to get out of the Golden Trio's re-bonding exercise.

Not that he didn't want to go, of course. He didn't, but that was besides the point. He simply wasn't invited.

Harry was happily wallowing in his happy ball of happiness at being happily friends happily ever after. He didn't see the tight-lipped smile Ron had given as Harry accepted the invitation to the match on behalf of the two of them. Harry completely missed the polite head nod Hermione gave when Harry started listing their favourite restaurants and what he and Draco liked to eat.

The words themselves were innocuous enough—How do you fancy the Cannons match tomorrow? I can score us some tickets; I can meet you for a nice meal afterwards. We haven't done that in a while—but Draco didn't miss the singular 'you' being directed at Harry.

An idea popped into Draco's head suddenly, and he didn't waste a second in conveying his apologies to the group. No one could dismiss a prior engagement in Swansea with a potential wormroot supplier, after all.

~ ~ ~

Ron slammed the door to the Burrow as soon as Harry Disapparated, nearly missing Harry's small wave of goodbye. Hermione was by his side instantly, smoothing the back of his neck to calm him down.

To an outsider—even to Harry—they had had a perfectly easy-going day. They'd watched a great game of Quidditch. The Cannons had even scored a few goals, which made Ron happy even though they'd eventually lost by 350 points. He and Harry had then joined Hermione for a lovely dinner in a great little restaurant that Harry had told them about. After all that, Harry had joined them back at the Burrow to enjoy a lovely bottle of wine that Draco had sent as an apology for not being there.

And _that_ was the problem. Draco bloody Malfoy.

Not that Ron didn't want Draco to be there, of course. He didn't, but that was besides the point. He simply wanted to spend some time with Harry.

He might as well have been with them. Actually, Ron would've preferred it if he had been. As much as Ron was grateful for Draco's absence, his presence might have curbed some of Harry enthusiasm. All day, no matter what they were doing, Harry brought Draco into the conversation.

Ron heard all about how Draco had got them a box to the world cup qualifier, and exactly how great it had been. He now knew how Draco liked his burger: lettuce, onions, ketchup _and_ mayonnaise (it sounded pretty great, actually, but Ron wasn't about to admit that). He heard how well-read Draco was and all about his new-found love of soap operas (whatever they were). Ron even knew the man's bloody shoe size.

He knew more about Draco Malfoy than he ever wanted to, and it made him justifiably very angry. Ron wasn't adverse to hearing about Harry's relationship completely. It was just that the day was supposed to be _them_. Ron, Hermione and Harry. He didn't expect anything to come between them.

~ ~ ~ 

 

Hermione tended to humour Ron as he ranted on about some subject or other. It was usually concerning the 'cheating bastards' in the local Quidditch game or the quality of the Australian wireless programmes, so an 'ah' here and an 'um' there covered it perfectly fine.

But, as Ron told her about his evening spent with Harry, his posture and his voice getting harder by the second, her 'um's and 'ah's turned into actual words of support and agreement. She had had more than enough of seeing—and hearing about—Draco bloody Malfoy.

It had been weeks since her and Ron's not-so-triumphant return home, and things with Harry were almost back to normal. They saw him a couple of times a week for dinner or drinks. Harry and Draco were ever present for the Sunday roast at the Burrow. Her and Ron had even sat through a few evenings at Harry's, watching he and Draco acting like an old married couple.

Neither Harry nor Draco seemed to be able to leave a room without giving the other a kiss—whether it was a peck on the cheek or a full blown snog depended on the time of night and how much alcohol they'd imbibed. The two of them sat so close together on the sofa that Hermione had difficulty discerning whose limbs were whose.

It was sickening. Not the fact that they were two men. No, Hermione didn't give a hoot about that. It was just the _coupleness_ of them.

Hermione had tried to kiss Ron when she needed to go to the bathroom once, but it had fallen flat. Ron had assumed that she wanted to go back to the Burrow and _do things_ and had gathered their coats and shoes before she could stop him.

The only time that Hermione had tried to sit closer to him than she usually did, Ron accused her of being drunk and had taken her straight home to bed.

The thing that angered Hermione about Draco the most was the fact that he was _always there_. She just wanted to spend some time with her best friend. Was that too much to ask?

Hermione could put up with it though. They were going back to Australia very soon, and Harry had promised to think about joining them for a week or two. Hermione hoped that Harry knew that she was expecting just him. She, most of all, didn't want him—or Draco—to know how she felt; she couldn't stand losing her best friend.

~ ~ ~

Draco knew exactly what Ron and Hermione thought of his presence, and he didn't give a shit. Not any more. They'd be gone soon, and Harry would stay none the wiser.

~ ~ ~ 

Harry knew something was wrong. He wasn't stupid.

He noticed Hermione's eyes glazing over when he told her how busy he was with the shop and Draco, and didn't know whether he'd be able to spare a holiday. Harry saw the way Ron's eyes rolled as Harry talked about his and Draco's plans for the upcoming weekend.

Harry knew how they felt. He was dreading them returning to Australia as well.

~ ~ ~

Two months later.

Ron had a perfect—if not _the_ perfect—excuse for his reaction to seeing Harry and Draco on his doorstep, standing so close together that you couldn't get a knut between them.

You see, Ron thought Draco was a bloody good friend.

It had been, surprisingly, his own sister that had finally dragged his head out of his arse when it came to Harry and Draco. Ginny had sat both him and Hermione down the night before they were due to return home, and told them how utterly disgusted she was in the pair of them.

Ron and Hermione had sat there, dumbfounded, as Ginny ripped them a whole new one. She told them, in no uncertain terms, that she wasn't stupid, and she'd seen the way they'd been acting. She'd seen the eye rolls and polite grins, and, perhaps most tellingly, she's heard them outright bitching about Harry and his new boyfriend.

The three of them had sat around the kitchen table till the early hours as Ginny explained exactly how lost Harry had been when they'd first decided to move abroad permanently. She—in great detail, to Ron's horror—described how great Draco had been and what he'd done for— _to_ —Harry.

Ginny then seemed to take great delight in telling them exactly how she would hurt them if they didn't make it up to both of them. Ron didn't know when—or _how_ —Ginny had become Draco Malfoy's biggest fan, but after listening to her passionately defending him and telling them how he alone had made Harry truly happy again, he thought he might have made a mistake.

Wanting to keep his balls where they were supposed to be, and with Hermione's full backing, Ron found himself on the morning of their departure leaving his wailing mother with Hermione, and walking up the path to Malfoy Manor.

It had been, not so surprisingly, hard, and probably the most difficult conversation he'd ever had, but it did the trick. Talking to Draco without Harry there, Ron could see how much the man had changed since their school years, and he could see what Ginny had been talking about. That meeting, and the numerous letters send back and forth since then, told him all he needed to know. Draco was _good_ for Harry, and Ron should bloody learn to like it.

Determined to make it up to both of them, Ron and Hermione had readily sent an invitation to visit them, making sure to say that they were _both_ welcome. The reply, in Draco's swirly script had made them incredibly happy. They would finally be able to show Harry how much they loved Australia. And they wouldn't even try to get him to join them. Well, not much, anyway.

So, with the sun beating down on his and Hermione's front garden, Ron threw the door open and grinned.

“Harry, Draco! Great to see you. Come on in, both of you.”

_The end._


End file.
